My wife has this mildly irritating habit of putting cold hands against the bare skin of my back.

It’s like torture.

One minute I’m happily doing the washing up, minding my own business and the next the back of my shirt is raised and cold flesh is pressed
up against exposed skin. A loud yell of protest erupts in the kitchen and the dog starts barking and nibbling on people gently, thinking it’s play time when I just want to finish the washing
up.

The kids pay no mind anymore, used to the teasing we inflict on each other now and again.

I can’t stay mad at her about it either, her laugh and playful smile lights up my day.

Though it does make me wary when she’s lingering in the kitchen behind me, it’s even worse when she’s fishing out food to cook up from the
freezer.

Ice cold hands are the worst.

I know going into the freezer isn’t a pleasant experience for her, causing terrible issues of comfort in her fingers but she makes the best of
it by tormenting me and my poor back.

All my senses instantly go on high alert when she creeps into the room, sometimes it’s obvious she’s planning on doing it as she’d be unable to
keep a mischievous smile off her face as she played innocent.

However, more often than not I was always taken by surprise when she’d briskly remove those hands from the freezer and hold them against me,
causing more goose bumps and yelling, but also an equal amount of laughter.

To think that I’m nice enough to let her store the dissected appendages in our family freezer and this is how she
repays me